Of Calculations and Birthdays
by thescarletwoman
Summary: So, how does one go about figuring out the birth date of the immortal man? Jack/Ianto, Owen/Snark, Ianto/Coffee


"What. Is. That?"

"It's a birthday cake."

The words 'birthday cake' seemed to draw everyone's attention to Gwen. Her step faltered ever so slightly, though she managed not to drop the covered tray clutched in her hands. Seeing identical looks mirrored on the faces of Owen, Tosh, and Ianto, Gwen suddenly felt like an idiot. This really had been a stupid idea, hadn't it?

"Whose birthday is it?" Ianto asked, ducking out from behind a pillar. That man had started picking up one too many habits from Jack as of late, as far as she was concerned. One heart attack a day caused by Jack making his surprise appearances was more than enough. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, surprised Jack wasn't standing behind her. Shocking.

"Someone's," Gwen hedged, moving towards her workspace in order to set the tray down before she dropped it. Then again, dropping it may not have been the worst idea in the world. It would have to be thrown away and Gwen could get out of the conversation. Then again, knowing certain people as she did, even a dropped cake wouldn't get her out of this mess.

"Can't be someone's," Owen replied, winding his way towards Gwen. "There's never been a birthday on this date ever."

"Well, I'm fairly certain that somewhere in the world there is at least one person sharing this date of birth," Ianto chimed in, "but there is no one at present in the Hub who has it. I'd know. And there isn't."

"Since when did you turn so cheeky?" Owen asked, head snapping towards Ianto. "Or is that a side-effect of shagging--"

Gwen cleared her throat loudly, cutting off whatever else Owen was about to say. From across the room, Ianto shot Gwen a grateful look, quickly busying himself with the computer and the answering clickety-clack as his fingers flew across the keys.

That left her with Owen and Tosh, both staring at her expectantly, waiting to know who the birthday cake was for. As if it wasn't completely obvious. Gwen shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to decide if she should lie and say it was for Rhys (which would completely cock things up when his actual birthday came around and the further repercussions made Gwen's head ache), or if she should just admit who it really was for.

"Where's Jack?" Gwen asked after a moment's pause.

Owen made a 'gimme' motion with his hands. "You lot owe me five quid. I said she'd attempt something 'caring' like this before the year was out. Pay up."

Mouth agape, Gwen stared at Owen. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised but still, he'd expected this from her? She knew she had a caring streak running through her a kilometre wide but that didn't mean they could predict that she'd show up one day with a birthday cake.

Then again, this was Torchwood. Predicting the unusual tended to be their standard mode of operation.

"So you brought the boss-man a cake?" Tosh asked, giving Gwen a genuine smile. "That's rather..."

"Nuts?" Owen supplied helpfully.

"Sweet," Tosh corrected. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it." Frowning ever so slightly, Tosh tilted her head to the side as she glanced over at Gwen. "Though, I'm curious to know how you came up with ithis/i date. Why September 18th?"

Gwen shrugged. "Seemed as good a day as any. It's not like Jack has anything about himself listed in the archives."

"Well, there is some," Ianto pointed out, his fingers slowing to an almost-crawl as opposed to the break-neck speed of a few moments ago. "However, there isn't anything that would be of use to you in determining his birth date. Unless of course, you take the scant information and upon calculating and allowing for temporal shifts come up with February 29th."

"Unless, of course, one is a freak," Owen muttered under his breath.

"So that would explain the maturity level of a twelve year old at times," Tosh mused, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "It all makes perfect sense."

Amidst the light laughter, none of them heard Jack's approach from behind. One of these days they were going to put a collar with a bell on it so they'd have some hope of hearing him first.

"What makes perfect sense?" Jack asked, stepping into the main area of the Hub from his office. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Gwen whirled around, knocking into the covered dish. It skittered across the desk, sliding precariously close to the edge before it stopped, teetering but not falling to the floor. There was a part of Gwen (the part that didn't spend all morning baking the damn cake) that wished it would have toppled over. No cake, no discussion and Gwen could go back to being embarrassed in silence.

Until Owen brought it up again.

"Why Ianto's coffee is so damned fantastic."

"Why you have the emotional maturity level of a twelve year old."

Tosh and Owen spoke simultaneously, the resulting phrase sounding more like 'Ianto's coffee is twelve years old'.

"My coffee is fresh daily," Ianto grumbled, typing away once more and stroking the keys with far more force than absolutely necessary. "Even if Jack's could be twelve years old without him noticing."

So, apparently there was a bit of drama going on here.

Jack's gaze settled on each of his team members in turn, a look reserved for each of them. Gwen got the small smile while Owen's look was amusement mixed with a twinge of annoyance. Still, while Owen was a twat, deep down Jack wouldn't have him any other way. Ianto... Ianto's look was a bit more complex. It managed to ask the questions 'what did you start?' and 'do I even want to know?'. Ianto's silent responses were 'nothing' and 'not on your life'.

It was the 'not on your life' answer that had Jack quirking an eyebrow. Once more Ianto shook his head ever so slightly, silently pleading for Jack to leave things be.

Then again, when did Jack iever/i let things be? He couldn't, was the proper answer because, apparently, such a thing went against his genetic makeup.

"A cake?" Jack asked, pushing off from the wall and further into the main area of the Hub. "What's the occasion?"

Owen hopped up from the stool he'd taken at some point after Jack's entrance and sauntered towards Gwen, dropping an arm around her shoulders. "Courtesy of our Welsh darling--"

"--Watch it," Ianto interjected.

"--our female Welsh darling," he amended quickly, "we have a birthday cake for our fearless leader. Picking a random day out of the air, she has decided that this should be the grand and glorious day that we celebrate the birth of one Captain Jack. And may I emphasize the point of 'random day'?"

If looks could have killed, Owen would have been cooling his heels in one of the cryogenic chambers in the morgue. Or, at the very least, would have been severely wounded. Jack would have wagered a shot to either the abdomen or shoulder -- either one would have put him out of commission for some time.

"Ianto, though, has his own theory," Tosh piped up, moving to stand beside Ianto. "He says that, through his own careful calculations, he has reached the definitive date of birth. February 29th."

"And that," Owen said, grinning at Jack, "is where we are at."

"I told you you didn't want to know," Ianto said with a sigh, ducking out from under Tosh's arm. "One day you'll listen to me."

There was a long pause, filled with another of those silent conversations between Jack and Ianto -- while the rest of the team exchanging glances with one another. While Ianto may have (on several occasions) categorically denied the notion that he was sleeping with Jack, the fact that he could carry on a silent conversation meant only one thing:

Ianto Jones was shagging his boss. Or was being shagged by. Either assessment fit the situation perfectly. And, really, in the end, how much did semantics matter?

"So," Jack said, finally breaking the lengthy silence, "are we going to cut this cake or not?"

"Are you going to tell us when your birthday is?" Gwen asked.

"Couldn't calculate it even if I told you," Jack replied. "Pointless to even try to do so," he continued, glancing at both Gwen and Ianto in turn. "However, there is cake and cake should not go to waste when it's brought. Who has a knife?"

Owen jumped up from his stool, shouting "I got one!" over his shoulder. He was back a moment later, carrying a wicked looking knife, complete with serrated blade.

"Isn't that one of your autopsy saws?" Tosh asked, looking at the instrument as if it had grown two legs and three heads. "Yes, it is," she answered without waiting for Owen's reply. "There's no way I'm eating something cut by a blade that could have Weevil bits stuck to it."

"It's been disinfected," Owen retorted. "Besides, we don't know Gwen's cooking. May need a saw in order to cut through the damn thing."

"Hardy-har-har," Gwen said with a roll of her eyes.

She took the offered saw from Owen, muttering under her breath as she cut the first piece, handing it over to the birthday boy. Or, in this case, the iun/i-birthday boy. Gwen continued to cut slices, handing them out to the rest of the team. They, however, stared expectantly at Jack, waiting for him to take the first bite.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Eat," Jack commanded.

"Not a chance," Owen said, shaking his head. "If it's poison, you'll die and come back. We die and that's it. Game over."

A piece of cake hit Owen square between the eyes. Swearing, he moped the icing and cake particles out of his hair and off his skin, glaring at Gwen. Owen sputtered, spitting out the bits and pieces that had managed to make it to his lips.

"Nice shot," Tosh applauded, even if she too hadn't taken a bite.

All eyes turned to Owen, the victim of a drive-by-caking. Only Gwen looked smug, brushing the crumbs from her hands. Owen face was a strange mixture of disgust and murderous intent, wanting to throttle Gwen within an inch of her life.

"Hey, hey," Jack piped up, recognising that look in Owen's eyes. "Throttling the staff is my job and my job alone."

"The cake tastes like shite," Owen complained, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Utter, utter shite."

"Bastard," Gwen said, reaching for something else to throw. The moment her hand landed on the serrated saw, Jack stepped between them.

With a hand raised to Gwen, eyes narrowed as if to say 'don't even think about it', he took a small experimental bite of the cake. He'd tasted more than a few rotten things in his life, but this one took the cake -- no pun intended. He swallowed hard, tossing the cake into the trash and looking around for the nearest coffee mug. Didn't matter if it was Tosh's and had far too much sugar in it, Jack needed isomething/i to wash it down.

"Eggs," Jack said, making a face at not only the cake but the far-too-sweet coffee. "Cakes need eggs otherwise they're drier than Voxutari spit."

"Pleasant visual, Jack," Gwen said, sighing. "I thought I put eggs in. Or, rather, had asked Rhys to crack two in while I made icing."

"The icing isn't bad," Ianto said, fork edging around the cake, scraping off the outer layer. "So there is that."

Grinning, Jack ran a finger along the edge of his own piece, tongue wrapping around the digit as he sucked off the icing. His eyes were on Ianto who made a soft strangled sound in response. Only Jack could make such an action look vaguely obscene. Hell, there was no 'vaguely' about it. Jack looked downright idirty/i. Even Gwen shifted uncomfortably watching the display, dropping her head to let her hair obscure the flush that jumped to her cheeks.

"The cake is a total loss," She said, sliding the half-cut cake from the tray and into the nearest rubbish bin. "So much for that."

"Hullo, Jubilee Pizza?" Ianto's voice rose above Gwen's muttering as he spoke into the phone. "Order of two pizzas. Torchwood."

Jack sighed, head falling back in annoyance, staring up at the vaulted ceiling above. "What part of 'secret organisation and we don't order pizza under the name of Torchwood' don't you lot get?"


End file.
